The Taste May Be Off
by HecateA
Summary: Out of all the people who would know about grief, Percy did not expect a god to have the best advice. Oneshot.


**Author's Note: **Well, I made myself sad. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to Rick Riordan, and this story derives from his original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Warnings: **NA

* * *

**Stacked with: **MC4A; Shipping War; Summer Bingo; Ornate Oscillating Obelisks

**Individual Challenge(s): **Wise Seaweed (Y); Rainbow Focus; Mountain Dwellers; Old Shoes; Summer Vacation; Themes and Things A (Death); Themes and Things B (Loss); Advice From the Mug; In a Flash

**Representation(s): **Loss and grief

**Bonus challenge(s): **NA

**Tertiary bonus challenge: **Ox

**Word Count: **860

* * *

_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Percy Jackson / Annabeth Chase (Wise Seaweed)

**List (Prompt): **Spring Big List (Baked Goods)

* * *

_**Spring Bingo **_

**Space address (Prompt): **1B (Blue)

* * *

**The Taste May Be Off **

He sat on the fire escape, legs dangling over the alley and the dumpsters below him. The rickety metal didn't even creak as his father appeared, sitting next to him. He wore a black button-down that was so wildly tame compared to everything else Poseidon had ever worn… it made the whole world feel even _more _broken, as if that were even possible.

"You heard, I guess?" Percy asked.

"I did," Poseidon said. "Word travels quickly about such things."

Percy couldn't tell if he was thankful or if the thought turned his stomach. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against the metal bars of this rickety little porch's grid and he took a deep breath.

"I've told you before, but it's worth saying again," Poseidon said. "Your mother was a queen amongst mortals."

"I know," Percy said. "You don't have to tell me that. She did everything she could for me, always. I… It's not even that I wouldn't be who I am without her, but I may not be alive."

Poseidon nodded along, his eyes difficult to read.

Percy wiped at his eyes, frustrated. Embarrassed, a bit. Maybe it was too much to expect an immortal to remember his age, but he felt too old to cry in front of his dad. Then again, if there was ever a time…

"Her funeral has passed, I assume?"

"Yeah," Percy said. "Yeah, we buried her a week ago. Paul took Estelle on a trip, to try and get their minds off of things."

"That seems wise," Poseidon said.

"Yeah, Annabeth just went over to their apartment to check on the plants," Percy said. He had no idea why he was filling in Poseidon on all of this. Actually, he wasn't sure why Poseidon was here _period. _

"Did you need anything?" Percy asked. "Is that what this is?"

"No," Poseidon said. "I just thought you might need checking in on."

"Okay," Percy said. "And what were you hoping to do while you were here? How in Hades were you hoping to make this situation better or—or make this okay, or…"

"Perseus," Poseidon interrupted. "I will do none of these things. I was here to check on you."

He sighed and buried his face in his hands.

"What did you think you'd find?" Percy asked.

"I didn't know," Poseidon said. "And it didn't matter. I know it's difficult and I wanted to check on you, that is all."

"There's no way you know—it's the same for you," Percy said. "You must have seen this a thousand times. But… but she's my mom. She's my only mom. She's Estelle's mom, Tyson's mom kind of... There's no one else in the world like her and now she's… she's gone, completely."

He buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath. He'd been a mess for days, would be a mess for much longer undoubtedly, and he didn't care at the moment.

A hand rested between his shoulders.

"Let me tell you Percy; in millennia of being alive, I have never met the same soul twice. Of course, your uncle promotes regeneration and so on, so that's not technically true. But there are no doubles for the humans who walk this earth. That much, even I understand. And even if there were, your mother was inimitable."

"Well fuck," Percy said. He wiped at his eyes again. "So how do you do it? How do you make it through all of this? I mean, I don't think I expected to—to outlive her, but you, you're always going to live on way past the people you mourn. How do you do that?"

Poseidon considered this for a second.

"You have to look at what's left around you, and look ahead to what may come yet," the god said simply. "Don't worry; it will come to you soon enough. Happy birthday, by the way."

"You remembered my birthday?" Percy asked, looking up.

"I did, and I'm not the only one," Poseidon said. Before Percy could ask another question, the god disappeared as unceremoniously as he'd appeared. The door behind Percy slid open, startling him. When he spun around, there was Annabeth—hair tied up in a bun, holding a plate of what appeared to be brownies frosted with some sort of electric blue buttercream.

"Hey," she said. "The apartment looked fine. I didn't mean to startle you."

"That's alright," Percy said. "What's that?"

Annabeth sat down next to him, legs dangling, and offered the plate of brownies to him.

"I just… I thought everything would be worse if you didn't get your blue cake this year," Annabeth said. "I know it's not the same and really this wasn't going to be a happy birthday anyways, and I made these so the taste may be off, but…"

He looked around him. Saw her. And, like always when he was looking at Annabeth, he saw the rest of his life there too.

He reached over and kissed her, a hand on her cheek.

"You taste sweet," he said.

"I tried the icing, to make sure it wasn't disgusting," she said.

"I'll try it too, Percy said, reaching for one.


End file.
